The Problem Is
by RenaRoo
Summary: The problem is Harper isn't so sure how to handle her crush.


feministbatman prompted: The comment in today's detective comics about Cass spending the night at Steph and Harper's respective places sent my poor wlw heart into overdrive. So, for the prompt, perhaps something of the romantic variety with harper being lonely now that Steph has moved out and she's not a part of vigilante club, and secretly really looking forward to potential visits from Cass when she sneaks into the apartment to crash on the couch (presumably because she is also lonely, my poor darling)

I'm positively honored to receive this prompt! So sorry for your wait and I hope I do it justice!

Batman and related properties © DC Comics  
story © RenaRoo

 **The Problem Is**

The problem is – well, the problem is that at first it isn't even a _problem._

There are things she gives up, for herself and not for him. She gives up weapons and programs, a few leftover costumes and masks as a means of _showing_ the commitment she's making to herself, to her new life.

These things aren't irreplaceable, if and when the time comes she'll make a new mask and don a new costume, but to put them away is to say she doesn't need them now.

She doesn't need them to be who she is. Not anymore.

Harper walks away from being a superhero and it is just about the hardest thing she has _ever_ done before, but she holds up her chin and keeps in stride.

She looks forward, to university and a part time job, and an apartment that doesn't leak.

What she _doesn't_ see until it's too late, until she's already there and there's no turning back, is the lack of Spoilers on her weekend movie nights. The lack of adventure that isn't of the digital variety at three in the morning.

She doesn't see herself with the Wicked soundtrack blasting as she lays alone in her bedroom floor questioning if there are any plaid shirts left or if it is _officially_ laundry day for her.

But that's where she is.

At least she is until it's three in the morning and the laundry isn't done and her soundtrack is blasting to chase away sleep but there's suddenly an adventure.

The adventure of learning just who the hell opened all her windows and let in that classic Gotham chill.

The problem is – well, the problem is that at first it isn't a problem at all when there is a half costumed Cassandra Cain on her couch, picking at the bare threads of old pajama pants.

The problem is that Harper is just _that_ relieved to have a reason to pull out the spare blankets and pillows from her closet at last.

The problem is that this hasn't happened sooner.

And that's not a problem at all…

* * *

The problem is when she's standing in the middle of the campus grocery store and suddenly Harper has the realization that she's buying for two.

With her meal plans and her stipend from Wayne Enterprises, for the first time since she can remember when, getting such things is not a _financial_ problem.

The problem is that she's not doing it for herself and her brother or herself and her friend Stephanie.

She isn't even doing it for herself and the _maybe_ prospect of having company in the future.

Harper specifically has herself cooking for two, and when the night stretches into morning and she's sitting by a window that hasn't been opened yet, when she feels her chest twist and ache with disappointment from the day ending without a drop by of Cassandra Cain.

The problem is it's suddenly a problem when she eats alone. Even if she knows there is no obligation for someone to join her.

The problem is that laundry day waits for a second pair of sweats, and that some pajamas aren't in rotation because they're someone else's favorites to wear.

The problem is that when her playlist gets to "For Good" she cries now laying on her bedroom floor like she never understood the meaning of the song before.

"Uh oh," Harper says.

Because the problem is that _uh oh_ means she never thought she'd let her guard down enough to hurt this way before. And the problem is that she's got no one to blame but herself.

* * *

The problem is Harper is mad when Cass _does_ show up at long last, and Cassandra can't figure out why.

"Dinner's cold," Harper says like it holds any meaning. Like noodles can't be warmed up.

Cassandra looks to the table and then back, more than a little confused. And like _always_ she never remembers to close the window behind her.

"Thanks?" she offers instead.

"How often are we going to do this?" Harper finally asks, waving to the pajamas she has neatly folded on the couch for Cassandra. "Because I look forward to you _every_ night, and I worry _every night_ that you're not here. And that's not fair because I left the vigilante game. I don't need the stress."

The other young woman, the _personification_ of the vigilante lifestyle, tilts her head back and looks a bit dazed.

"You want… me to go?" she asks, hands waving to the window.

Harper throws up her hands and groans. "Cass, I want you to stay _forever!_ I want you to wear flannel in my bed and laugh at me because a play I've watched a thousand times makes me cry for all new reasons when you're around. I want you to be _with_ me and my stupid face doesn't know how to ask you to stay."

And once her tirade is over, Harper lets out another animalistic growl before marching over to her fridge, opening the freezer, and sticks her head in it.

The problem is, despite evidence to the contrary, you _can't_ die from embarrassment.

The problem is, her attempt to fade into obscurity is ended early because the hands that snake around her waist from behind grounds her.

"I can stay?" Cass asks, chin digging into Harper's shoulder _just_ right.

And the problem is, it isn't a problem at all.


End file.
